-Arwen-

My throat had gone hoarse from the screaming, and I was shivering something fierce. The edges of my mind felt diffuse and vague, and what little thoughts I could muster felt frayed. My body was drenched in sweat and was ached like I’d just run a marathon, I’m sure I’d be hungry were it not for the extreme nausea.

I don’t know how long I’d been just laying on the floor, there was little my brain was registering besides the exhaustion, I had probably passed out at some point or another. Didn’t care much about that, I recovered my ability to think slowly, and the first thing that had come into my mind was that I could barely feel my hand. I clutched it against my chest and felt numbness in my fingers, there was a lingering sensation through its form, an unnerving feeling as if a part of me had no doubt it would burst in pain very soon.

My brain told me the notion was absurd, I was in my cell, the Old Man had left, the torture had stopped. That the exhausting fear was gone, and the long numbness had passed.

But the thought was there, the memory of the sensation floating just outside the edges of my awareness. The promise of more pain to come.

“You’re pathetic.” The voice broke the ringing in my ears, blearily I realized my eyes felt like they’d been crying. Had I been crying? I wouldn’t be surprised, though I barely remembered begging for the pain to stop.

“...” I didn’t answer Margad’s taunt, too aware that his opinion of me had undoubtedly lowered from seeing me crumble under the torture. Had I begged him to translate my pleas to the Old Man? I don’t think so. A small wave of gratitude washed over the growing sense of shame and weakness. The language barrier had protected me from just telling the Old Man anything he wanted.

I’d thought the pedestal had been torture and I’d been wrong, the pain had been more intense, but it hadn’t been torture. The altar of extraction had not allowed me time to think and to fear until it was done.

“You’re not an agent of the Demon Lord.” The next assertion froze my heart, I levelled a glare at the blue demon while my mind kicked into a higher gear trying to remember what had I said while the torture had taken place. The look of suspicion on his face answered the question for me, had I told the truth it would be a look of anger, probably even fury.

As powerful as Margad was, he was still barely out of his teenage years.

Slowly, clutching my right hand against my chest, I shook my head. “I am an agent, I just wasn’t selected amongst slaves of the Demon Realm.” My brain was already weaving the narrative that I would try to convince him of, as good a distraction from the fear as any to be had.

The suspicion intensified. “So you were recruited, yet you...”

“I was adopted.” I stopped him before he could finish. Humans could be ‘adopted’ by demon clans, they were effectively considered the lowest of the low of demons… but it would still be above any slave. It wasn’t exactly rare, though it wasn’t common either. “For the second princess; I…” Then I snapped my mouth shut, I’d been about to spin a yarn about being the one handling her personal library before she died, but I cut it off then and there; I was supposed to not want to share this information with him.

Margad looked at me with narrowed eyes but didn’t press the detail. “And why would the Demon Lord choose you as an agent?”

A soft chuckle to break the fugue. “I was surprised as well.” I admitted. “I had voiced my concerns to my uncle about how dangerous it would be fighting the humans and the next day I was called by the Demon Lord…” I quickly shook my head. “I think I’ve said too much.”

The suspicion turned thoughtful, had he swallowed the story? God, I hoped he’d drop the matter already, if I wanted him to go for the throats of the traitors within the demon ranks I needed him to stop suspecting my background and instead start looking towards the future.

“Who’s Inquisitor Benavidez?” His question came completely out of left field.

Blinking in surprise, I had to put to the side the potential answers to the potential questions I’d been expecting out of him and mentally go back towards the mental notes and narratives I had. For Inquisitor Benavidez, it was a rather simple fear for me to remember most of his details. He was a minor character who had a powerful impact in the background of the main story. “An Acolyte of Saint Marine, Inquisitor Benavidez is easily recognizable for his massive size and armour. There are rumours he is part giant, or at least part orc.” A pause while I organized my thoughts. “Most of his renown comes from the incident that had gotten him nominated to the position of Inquisitor: About ten years ago, there had been a conclave of mages that’d managed to gain control of a dragon whelp and with it conquered a fortress in the Deep Southern Ridges. Alone, he attacked the fortress, slaughtered the conclave, and released the whelp from its slavery.” Shrugging slightly, I let out a slow breath, glad that I was starting to feel a sense of ease spreading through the tiredness. “As an Inquisitor, he’s mostly focused on hunting mages and witches for the Church, most likely due to personal reasons.” I glanced at him. “Why?”

Maybe I rattled off a bit too much information? Margad seemed thoroughly surprised, shocked even. It felt slightly off for me though, since I hadn’t really revealed the ‘important’ character details such as he’s actually a half dwarf half-giant, or that despite his massive imposing figure and incredible skills in combat, he was actually a powerful water mage.

I t felt off that Benavidez was a water mage, it just didn’t fit his style at all. S o I made him a blood-mage instead.

The words appeared in the air and with them, I had a sudden urge to scream at this “second-writer”. Blood-mage? I had designed them as an addition to the story but had entirely scrapped it because it had felt like it slightly grated against the normal mechanics of how magic worked. Not to mention that without blood-mages, the Church gained a less “justified” and more “pure evil” tone to them…

It’s sort of lame that the Church’s underground activities would be purely born out of “corruption” with little other explanation, it didn’t feel organic.

The generally poisonous nature of Blood-mages and the ease with which they could unwittingly spread diseases and death made them the perfect “Origin story” as to why the Church would create secret groups meant to hunt individuals while avoiding bad-press.

Thanks for the notes by the way! Though with how much effort you put into creating the blood-mage class, I would’ve thought you’d have actually added it to the original story ಠ_ಠ

I gritted my teeth, I wanted to scream right now, really scream, scream at the “Second writer” and punch them in their ascii face. With the blood-mages a whole level of headaches would be added to the story and that was ignoring their speciality. Blood-mages had no cores, instead, their blood was what housed their mana. This made their blood highly toxic to most living beings, consuming it or getting some into your bloodstream would shred your body inside out, there being few options to prevent death and that needed to be applied practically at the onset of the symptoms. This was without including that, every once in a blue moon, some virus or bacteria would manage to adapt to the mana-rich blood and become a “super-bug” that’d then get out and wreck the population as the newest plague.

From their very design, blood-mages were intended as an uncomfortable question for the hero. ‘What if a group of people, despite them being good people, posed an existential threat to the whole continent? Would it be considered evil to kill them?’. But I’d scrapped it since the demons already filled this role, if perhaps not to the same extent.

And now the second writer had put them back because he didn’t understand why I’d removed them to begin with.

But worst of all, HE HAD SNOOPED THROUGH MY NOTES!

Also, it seemed they were monitoring my thoughts, which should totally be disturbing me more.

I’d be swearing and screaming up a storm right now if not for the fact that Margad would understand what I’d say.

“...is why.” Margad’s voice snapped me out of the inner monologue.

I blinked. “What?” I blinked again, not having paid attention to a word he’d spoken.

“I said that the other human had mentioned the name and that they were coming.”

The gears in my head began spinning slowly. “Benavidez?”

“Yes.” Margad rolled his eyes.

A sense of deja-vu swept over me as I realized Margad’s “friends” were going to take too long to break him out of here. I decided to commemorate the moment by using the greatest word in the English language. “...fuck.”

- Blaire -

She had returned to observe the guards come early morning, a part of her knew there was little she could do, another hoped she’d spot something, notice something, anything, that she could use. A lead, a flaw, an option. Blaire was looking for a clue that could help her find a way to get Arwen out of that stone box…

A shudder ran down her spine as she remembered the stories and rumours she’d heard about what the Church did to those they captured. The innocents would always come out… different, changed, broken. The guilty would never come out at all.

She wouldn’t let that happen. She picked a comfortable spot and sat down.

And waited.

It was past noon when she saw him.

Amongst the soldiers she hadn’t noticed, but now that he had stepped away she’d realized it was a dwarf. The man wore the simple tunic and sword of a soldier who’d not intended to fully gear himself. His black hair was severely uncombed, and the bags under his eyes spoke a story of exhaustion and a lack of sleep.

Blaire flicked her hair, grasping a strand of her golden locks and pulling at it softly while her mind considered the next step. Her feet began to move and she was trailing the soldier even as her mind continued to gnaw at the puzzle regarding whether or not an opportunity was truly being presented to her and whether it was possible for her to even take it.

No sense in staying put, she set out to follow the dwarvish soldier, taking care to keep her distance as he wearily walked the streets in a particular direction. Was he on leave as her assumption told her or was he heading somewhere she couldn’t do anything? Should she hurry ahead? She dismissed the thought, right now knowing more about what was happening was a better option than doing something rash.

Her heart was in her throat with every step she took, the sound of dirt and sand and gravel under her shoes seeming far louder to herself than what she told herself it truly was. Bit by bit she kept trailing him through the burnt out slums, all the way until he stopped in front of a house, the man taking a moment to straighten his shoulders and loudly knocking on the door with an odd rhythm.

It opened without anyone visible at the other side, and Blaire froze as something impossible happened before her very eyes, as the dwarf stepped through, his body shimmered and changed. She barely had enough time to register that the dwarf was growing before the door was abruptly closed behind him.

With a gasp, she reeled and hid behind the corner, out of sight from the house.

Her heart beat madly in her throat. What had that been!? Magic? What was going on? So many questions bubbled and boiled in her mind she couldn’t keep track of her own thoughts. Trepidation replaced fear, and she slouched away through the alleyway to look for some angle from which she could better observe the house. There were none, at least none that weren’t also close enough they could be easily seen from the building itself.

Fighting against the fear coiling in her belly, she did the only other thing she could do: get closer.

-????-

Wearily he dropped the amulet next to the door, feeling his body complain and groan from the forced shift, and his mana was all but dry at this point, the enchanted item having consumed far too much for the handful of hours he’d remained.

“So?”

“AH!” Even tired, he’d managed to jump slightly back with shock when the owl beastkin emerged from the shadows of the house’s entrance hallway. “Could you not do that?” Wide and unblinking yellow eyes met him, their intensity unnerving even to the demon. “No, no luck. He’s locked up at least three levels beneath what I’ve managed to get access to.”

“Should tell Arath.” The snowy white-haired man spoke, still unblinking.

It was draining to keep his instincts in check when locked down there with so many humans, doubly so when someone casting a detection spell could very well reveal the situation and bring everything crashing down over their heads. “And you should get rid of the corpse.” He replied while shrugging off his cape as he passed the bundled up corpse of the former Church soldier. “Before it starts to smell.”

His steps lead him through the house towards the room within which would be the bed he was meant to be taking right about now.

Instead, someone stood in the way, her red horns and dark skin betrayed her to be of fire-spirit lineage, a fact the male demon had never quite liked about her. “So?” She spoke to him the same word the shadow-mage had, and it irked him.

“Not deep enough, need time or a new corpse.” He grumbled, shoving her to the side and reaching for the door.

“The longer we take…” She spoke the warning.

“...the likelier the Captain is killed, I know.” He growled, the wooden knob of the door creaked from within his grasp. “But if I don’t sleep, I’ll rampage the next time I have to hear a human giving me an order, and that will be less helpful.”

Orange eyes looked into the patience that was already worn thin. She stepped back. “We’ll look into finding someone better.”

“You do that.” He growled opening the door and slamming it behind him.

Weary eyes had been expecting an empty bed, instead, they found the large naked frame of a green-skinned orcish woman. It gave him pause.

His gaze traced over her well trained figure, the supple curve of her muscles, and the tempting flow of her hips. Up her body his wandering sight went, the sculpted abs she was so proud of, but stopped upon the uneven dark scars where her breasts no longer were. A growl involuntarily escaped his throat, stirring the tall woman into opening her emerald green eyes.

Her tusks peeked through her lips as she gave him a rueful smile, uncaring for the display of her nakedness to him. “” She spoke the human tongue, the only language she’d ever known as the slave she’d been until recently.

“” He replied, not moving from where he stood.

She beckoned. “”

A mirthless chuckle escaped him while he removed his wool shirt. “”

“” She replied as her smile turned impish. “”

“” He warned, approaching the bed as she scooted over to make room for him.

“” The look in her eyes spoke otherwise, the orc woman had thoroughly enjoyed doing the little ‘tests’ that resulted in him pinning her down to begin with. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him closer to lay on the bed.

Neither spoke as she used one hand to comb through his green hair. “” She whispered, leaning into his ear and biting it. “”

He didn’t answer, closing his eyes and sighing, focusing on her touch. “”

A rueful laugh. “”

THUD

He was off the bed faster than she could react, the window exploded outwards as he’d shoved it open, he’d been about to leap out but the orc had caught him by the neck of his shirt and yanked him back, pulling herself to look out the window in his stead. “” She hissed while her eyes desperately searched through the street below and the nearby rooftops, looking for the source of the sound.

But she saw nothing. Had it been a coincidence?

“Yurtu.” The demon called behind her, and the orc saw as the shadows surrounding the house wavered ever so slightly under the will of the shadow-mage.

“Clear.” His voice could be heard through the door.

The orc stopped and turned to meet the demon’s eyes as he kept glaring outside, wariness fighting against the intense exhaustion. Her expression hardened. “”

“” His words were cut off as she tackled him to the floor. The surprise was enough to give her the opportunity to straddle his hips securely.

“” She said with a gesture towards him. “”

Anger, annoyance, a glare. He lunged, one blackened hand grasping her throat as he knocked her off of him with the ease of someone toying with a rag doll. Just as quickly, he’d toppled her on to her back, his single hand keeping her throat pinned against the wooden floor. “” He leaned in to whisper into her ear, ignoring the manic, excited grin spreading across her face. “”

Still, underneath him, she wriggled her hips as her smile grew wider, the orc keeping her hands to her sides, relishing the feeling of weight and power her partner was applying on her. “” She paused as the hold on her throat loosened altogether.

“” She blinked as she prodded the demon slightly, only then noticing the far heavier breathing.

She grumbled and sighed, not sure what else she should’ve expected. Maybe she’d get a better chance tomorrow.

-Rainer-

“Tomorrow, you will not be allowed to speak, nor will you be permitted to act without an express order to do so.” The Inquisitor stated. “The moment we enter the city, you will not speak a single word regardless of what happens, are we clear?”

They’d reached the city, or what was left of it. The two minotaurs had been intent on going towards the garrison, and confirm whether it was indeed the human they’d been looking for who’d been locked up down there. But the Inquisitor had sent ahead his men while he took the duo to a tavern.

“Yes, Inquisitor.” They replied in unison, feeling slightly confused but not daring to refuse the order.

“I will pick you up at first light. Be ready.” He tossed them a small bag with coins. “Until then, you are dismissed.”

Sharply turning away, he left both of them lingering at the tavern’s door and wondering what to do. There was a certain energy in the air that left them both feeling rather anxious, especially Rainer, his thoughts felt tumultuous, clouded. Was this going to be it? Would their master’s death receive its justice?

Yselda’s hand grasped his own, and she gently tugged him towards the tavern. This prompted an odd look from him.

“The Inquisitor said that tomorrow we would become true Initiates.” She stated plainly. “I do not expect we will be able to have much time for ourselves after that.”

Understanding dawned on the minotaur and his steps following hers became more determined. “Do you think it’s worth it?” He muttered as she paid the owner for a room for the night.

She didn’t say anything, her eyes focused on their route up the stairs towards the room, her silence felt nervous.

“Yselda?” He prompted as she opened the door to the small room, his hand pulled hers slightly.

She hesitated, pulling into herself slightly. “I… don’t know.” The words came out barely a whisper. “I’d thought I’d escaped from starving to death when Master Cu bought me, and now he’s dead.” A tightness in her throat followed, her eyes turned to his. “I’m not sure about anything anymore, Rainer, our home isn’t there anymore.”

Something became tense within his chest, he reached up and cupped her face gently in his hand to pull her into a kiss. “I’d be dead if not because of you.” He said, the free hand shoving the door closed behind him as he lead her towards the bed. “With you, I am home.”

An imperceptible tension left her shoulders as he said this. “No more ’This is only to release tension’?” She laughed, allowing herself to be guided by his touch. Hot lips met his, hands trailing up from under his shirt.

He refrained from answering, thankful the room’s poor illumination hid his blush. Instead, he took to lifting her tunic, to expose more of her tanned skin. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of her bosom, a fact that made her stir and giggle.

“They’re no different than last time.”

Rather than answer, he dove in, grasping the soft tender flesh with a care that went entirely against his powerfully muscled physique. Lips kissed her neck and trailed downwards, drawing contented heated sighs from her, a growing eagerness sparking between them.

Yselda’s fingers caressed his hair and grasped it tightly when he playfully nipped at her tit, and then once more when he squeezed the pleasurable pillows with increasing desire. “Rainer…” She huskily whispered his name.

And they took to one another with abandon.

-Inquisitor Benavidez-

It was cloudy and it would likely rain at some point. It was days like these that Benavidez disliked being near populated areas the most, it meant he couldn’t remove his armour no matter what, that he couldn’t properly feel the humidity in the air, nor the faint smell of recently fallen rain.

Such was the purpose of the armour, to prevent things from coming in or out that were not absolutely necessary. Such was the cost of being unblessed. It made him long for the forest, where away from those he himself hadn’t cast the basic wards on he could remove the slabs of metal that currently wrapped every inch of him.

“Ma’am!” The soldier near the temporary-garrison’s entrance gave a salute to the wind-mage who’d been walking beside Benavidez.

Inquisitor and mage stepped through the open door, the two minotaurs trailing them silently followed close behind.

Benavidez spared a thought for the new recruits, the male had a strong will, passionate and determined, he would do well once properly trained in the sword… he might even become apt to apply for the trials of Saint Marine one day. It was the female minotaur, however, that had drawn the Inquisitor’s attention. She was willful and experienced, both good things to have, but she also had some measure of untapped magic, a clear sign of good prospects to come so long as she puts enough effort into her training.

“Follow, quietly.” He reiterated for the male’s sake, the younger minotaur was so anxious it looked like he’d just about pounce on the first sound he heard.

“You intend to leave them here, Inquisitor?” The wind-mage asked casually, technically she was in charge of the garrison and its soldiers, but Benavidez was the one of higher rank amongst the two.

“Yes, I’m sure you’re in need of as many hands as you can get.” Came the courteous response.

“Indeed we are.” She spoke with a growing scowl, giving only the slightest hint of attention towards the two minotaurs while they followed the corridors in the direction of the dungeons. The mage had to take the lead for Benavidez’s form was too large for her to stand at his side. “Were you informed of the demon?”

“No.” He replied promptly, remaining silent to prompt more from her, attention turning towards the dishevelled state of the garrison. It was meant to be temporary until the Church’s building was in a usable state once more, but still, he felt a sense of shame at their troops allowing the state of the garrison be such.

Just how many had the dragon slain in its rampage? Had the Church been left in such a state they couldn’t even keep order within their own halls?

“He was caught near the site of the incident.” She spoke dryly. “According to a witness account, there were at least two others with him, we’re currently interrogating him, but he’s yet to crack.” A heartbeat of a pause. “He’s being held at the same place your suspect is at.”

The Inquisitor had to pause for a moment at her words. “Why?”

“The Cardinal insisted.” She replied. “Apparently the demon knows whatever language the apprehended mage is using.” A pause. “He’s given instructions to have a soldier listening in and writing down everything they say, the prisoner is having the demon help him learn Common, so the Cardinal is attempting to use the opportunity to decipher the strange language.”

“And… you let him?” The Inquisitor’s tone darkened. “A Cardinal should hold no authority to order soldiers, much less dictate how prisoners should be handled.”

His words brought a grimace from her. “Though among the men my rank is higher, it’s thanks to the Cardinal that we have managed to keep our troops relatively free to move without incurring the Crown’s wrath. His only request was freedom to experiment with the two prisoners.”

Benavidez knew that under normal circumstances such a request was not uncommon. But the Cardinal had asked this in regards to a demon and a blood-mage, and that could not be allowed, especially if it meant leaving them together free to talk in a language that as of right now no one else understood. “Those permissions will be rescinded.” He stated flatly. “Also, you will call for someone who is familiar with the language of spirits, though a contracted spirit would be better.”

The grimace the woman made was visible even from behind her. “Most of our mages died fighting the dragon. None of those who remain are spirit-talkers.” She spoke solemnly. “The best we can hope for is that there’s a spirit-mage in service of the Crown they can lend us.”

“Then seek a contracted or trapped spirit.” He stated firmly. “We don’t know what we’ll learn from the prisoner and an agent of the Crown is not one we wish to include in the discussion.”

“It will be done, Inquisitor.” She stated, growing silent once more as she lead them through the entrails of the stone building.

“Inquisitor.”

The voice came from behind him, and the recognition of who had spoken made him thin his lips as he began wondering whether or not he should remind the minotaur of her orders.

“I have a question.” She said with a slight frown, the look in her eyes prompted enough curiosity from the Inquisitor for him to deign her words with a slight nod. “Captain, were you present during the apprehension of the prisoner mage? What is your impression of him?”

The question made him pause, he’d read the Captain’s report regarding the prisoner’s capture, but little details were given about the incident. “You may speak freely if you wish, captain, I find myself curious about it as well.” He added his own weight to the question, to ensure the captain would not feel as slighted.

At his words she stopped, looking at the Inquisitor with a calm steady gaze. “There is nothing much to be said about him. I captured him in my wind-catapult spell and he did not fight nor pose much of a threat. All civilian injuries during the apprehension came from the panic he induced on the crowd by claiming a dragon was coming.”

Benavidez felt his stomach flip at the words, having experienced the wind-catapult himself, it was not amongst the most pleasant sensations to be thrown around in such a way. “I see.” He simply commented. “He didn’t use magic?”

She shook her head, seeming irritated about something before dismissing it. “His efforts were exclusively in running, he didn’t cast any magic I could detect, and he didn’t struggle once he was surrounded.” A derisive snort followed. “After being chained up he didn’t shut up and just kept talking in that babbling tongue of his.”

“Possessions?”

“He’d been carrying some bags, but he’d dropped them the instant we began to chase him.”

Benavidez frowned at that; only attempting escape and easily surrendering? That was not how any of the blood-mages he’d hunted had fought. Had his initial estimate regarding the mage’s capabilities been off? Or was he apprehensive from using his magic in a crowd? Seeing the dwarf Master’s corpse, it was at least clear that a powerful blood-poison had been used on Cu, so there must be something peculiar happening.

“Have you tested him?”

Another grimace. “No, the orbs haven’t been recovered from the rubble yet… hopefully, they weren’t destroyed”

The Inquisitor nodded, the lack of orbs would mean he’d have to test the prisoner himself. He motioned for her to carry on, she lead them down two more flights of stairs before they came to a halt next to a set of wooden doors. There was a soldier with a table and quill who looked rather bored until they came into his line of sight. “Ma’am.” He declared as he saw her. “He’s been quiet since yesterday’s session with the Cardinal.”

The captain nodded. “You are dismissed until called upon.” She spoke and turned to face the Inquisitor. “Will I be needed for anything else?”

“No, and thank you for your assistance.” Benavidez spoke, a courteous nod all he needed to send her away to carry out his orders.

Once she was gone, the Inquisitor took a long second to straighten his thoughts. Turning to give the two minotaurs a singularly intense look, he felt his warning had been made clear enough. He opened the door and stepped inside, the small growl the two Initiates made all the sign he needed to know they’d found the one they’d been looking for.

Benavidez’s eyes landed first on the demon, slightly surprised one had been caught alive to begin with. The creature glaring at him silently, but otherwise not doing much. The Inquisitor decided to give it the same treatment and merely ignored its presence, no point in wasting attention on it when it was clearly yet to be broken.

The human in the other cell would’ve been one he’d have easily dismissed as well if not because it was the person he suspected of being unblessed. He was looking towards nothing at all with a near unblinking gaze, holding his right hand tightly against his chest, a certain level of tension present in his shoulders even as he remained still and unmoving.

Benavidez wondered where had the man seen someone being catatonic, for he was rather convincing about being in such a state himself.

Without asking, or waiting, the Inquisitor pulled out his blade and thrust it between the metal bars of the cell, stabbing into the human’s arm. The gesture had caught the prisoner completely off guard, and though he managed to move away a bit, it had not been enough to prevent the cut from appearing on his forearm.

The scream was all the proof Benavidez needed to confirm the human had only been pretending. The sight of the prisoner squirming back and away from the bars and shooting a long hateful look towards the Inquisitor had been rather satisfying. Rather than speak, he retrieved the blade and looked at the blood closely. A familiar ominous feeling washed over him as he smelt the red substance. “As I thought, unblessed.” He muttered under his breath, making a mental note that the prisoner was to be healed every day so long as he was allowed to keep living, otherwise there would be an increased risk of his blood poisoning whoever came in contact with him.

The Inquisitor looked at the imprisoned human with his steady gaze. Carefully he began to weigh whether there was any merit to keeping him alive. As curious as the Cardinal may be about the language of spirits, it wouldn’t be worth the risk of an unbound blood-mage.

Briefly, he considered applying a geass on the prisoner, but discarded it, curses of such kinds only worked if the person understood the conditions of the curse to begin with.

Much to everyone’s surprise, the human opened his mouth and spoke. “Cu the dwarf attacked and shackled me when I was in the city.” His words were carefully enunciated, as if having trouble remembering them precisely. “He did not have a slave mage permit.”

Both minotaurs could be heard tensing up, likely very strongly considering going against their orders right about now.

“Irrelevant.” The Inquisitor spoke harshly. “You’re an unblessed, a blood-mage. Your very presence is a threat to the kingdom and you will be eradicated once your usefulness comes to an end.”

Those words caused the human to tilt his head, glance towards the demon, then at Benavidez and sigh. “I only know memorized lines in Common. I was forced to forget Common. Have to relearn.”

Something felt like it clicked for Benavidez, a sense of foreboding danger. He couldn’t be sure why he felt it, only that the irregularities the blood-mage was showing didn’t make sense. “No need.” He’d remained alive all these years by following his instincts, he wasn’t going to ignore them now.

Slowly, he sheathed his sword, preparing himself to cast a spell instead and quickly finish him off.

The human’s eyes widened like plates as he likely felt the danger. “Réd -oi leben winds a -iel nai rost!” He shouted loudly in a sudden panic while kicking the floor to get as much distance as he could from Benavidez.

The Inquisitor’s magic died with a sputter, leaving the man wide-eyed and stunned. The name was missing all but one syllable, but it was impossible to confuse it. A feeling that was abruptly drowned under simmering anger. “How do you know that name!?” He growled, stepping towards the cell and unlocking it.

“I don’t know common!” The human stated, repeatedly, unable to properly do anything as the massive bulk of the Inquisitor approached. His words died when the gloved hand squeezed around his throat.

With a strength far greater than any normal human had the right to wield, the Inquisitor lifted the struggling human by the throat, allowing only the sound of chokes. Two words managed to escape between the wheezes. “Dragon… Death…” He was released, dropped to the floor and left in a coughing fit while the Inquisitor glared down at him.

“Speak.”

“I don’t know common.” The young man muttered, fighting for breath as he rubbed his throat. “Dragon, young, death, mountains, soon.”

A metallic sound drew Benavidez’s attention back towards the two minotaurs. Yselda had made the sound by tapping the metal bars of the cell, the look on her face was concerned and clearly fighting to restrain herself. “Speak unless it’s to ask something of me.”

She closed her mouth, nodded, and stepped back.

The Inquisitor caught the prisoner’s look of… pity? That he quickly hid. With a grimace, the prisoner took the fresh blood that had dripped and drew a cross everyone instantly recognized. “Dragon name, then death here soon soon.” His tone wasn’t friendly, nor happy, it was a threat. “If no name, then dragon death mountains soon.”

The words caused the armoured man to glare at the Church’s cross that had been drawn, the significance clear: If the man spoke the true name, the dragon would come and die by the hands of the Church. If he didn’t, then the Church was likely preparing to eradicate such a dangerous creature. And as he thought of this, Benavidez’s instincts were roaring even louder that he should kill the prisoner, that only he should know the name.

The name of the dragon he’d once saved, a name he’d kept secret from his superiors lest they did to the magical creature as they had to the one under the cathedral that had been freed not a full moon ago.

How!? How could he know this!?

-Blaire-

The thought of demons being in the city kept her awake all night, it terrified her.

She had heard the folk-tales, of the creatures that never slept, never rested, and feasted upon the flesh of bad children. She had ignored those, of course, taking them for little lies meant to keep children in line. But the rumours and stories… Cu had used her body to exchange for favours, and to smooth over deals, and as a good slave, Blaire had learnt how to do some proper pillow-talk.

It was through this she had heard of the demons of the east, true monsters and no longer a nursery rhyme. The merchants and warriors alike hated and feared them in equal measure, they told stories of monsters with the power to sink ships without aid. Encounters that were only ever won through sheer numbers and the blessings of the Church of Swords.

Blaire shuddered, feeling the exhaustion weighing down on her eyes, her thoughts were frayed as she fruitlessly kept trying to figure out what was going on and who to trust. More and more she told herself she should leave, run away, steer as clear as she could from the demons. Maybe even contact one of the church to…?

She shook her head violently at the thought, what if the person she talked to was another disguised demon?

What if Arwen was a demon?

The thought felt like a lightning bolt, all too abruptly she didn’t feel tired anymore. She felt herself glaring at the garrison, the doubts regarding Arwen kept growing further and further. Just how much longer could she afford to wait before Uryuc left? Should she even consider continuing in that direction if she…?

Immediately she shook her head again, not wanting to risk those thoughts. It hadn’t been that long, she could afford to wait some more. Look for a way to get him out… and ask questions, lots of questions.

As if not content with her frayed nerves, life seemed ready to send her another surprise. Blaire hadn’t even settled to wait for a while longer before she saw four figures approaching the garrison. One stood out amongst the rest for its massive armoured bulk, the other for the craftsmanship of their robes. The other two because they were minotaurs.

And Blaire knew these two particular minotaurs quite well.

-Arwen-

Thank fuck I got the dragon whelp’s name right. It had been stored as my final attempt at convincing the murder-happy Inquisitor to not off me, and fuck, I’d still been quite close to getting offed. I had barely managed to gasp the words “Dragon” and “Death” as best I could, but damn, it’d still felt too close. I rubbed my neck with a grimace as I tried to recover my breath.

The “dragon will be hunted at the mountain by the Church” was an utter bluff, but not one he could readily confirm what with the capital being weeks away from said mountain range and Hightower still in an utter state of ruin.

A new message popped up.

Y ou’d been so close to getting killed! This is so thrilling! o(>ωo

'Fuck off.' I thought intently.

I’d have said something, but my demon ‘room-mate’ was still there, and the Inquisitor was huffing in front of my cell. I was quite content with trying to consider how much time my revelation had bought me. How long until he found a way to ‘properly’ communicate with me… he’d need a spirit, so maybe a couple days? A week? Were all spirit-mages in the capital dead? God, I hoped so.

The scary part was knowing that now that I’d used my trump card, the violent medieval-space-marine would undoubtedly hunt me down the instant I escaped. No questions asked.

Keeping my glare on the mini-plate-armoured-hulk, I saw him go through the motions of mentally asking himself what the fuck was going on and how it was possible that someone other than himself knew the true name of that dragon whelp who’d definitely never come into contact with any human since their last encounter. Then he growled something at me and left.

Rainer and Yselda looked at me silently. I just shot them a shrug and enjoyed the male’s glare before they, too, left.

“You hadn’t said you were a blood-mage.” Margad spoke in a low voice the moment the thumping footsteps were gone. “Nor that you knew the true name of a dragon.”

“Blood-mage part I didn’t know about. The rest? Well… lots of things I haven’t and won’t tell you.” I shrugged.

Inwardly, I was screaming. The FUCK? I was a blood-mage? Shit, that explained so much. Fucking second-author. Of all the shit he could’ve pulled, he decided to introduce a whole new class and THEN shove me into the category for a first-hand experience!?

I f you weren’t a blood-mage, right now you wouldn’t have options to escape. t(-_-t)

The message was like a slap to the face. What? WHAT!? I had to shake my head, the first question that bounced inside my head being whether this second-author had the power to view the future.

N o, and stop cheating, I’m going to be in enough trouble with the hint I just dropped. X_X

I just couldn’t help myself anymore, I laughed. I laughed hard. I’d nearly been killed, and I was mentally talking to a string of text that belonged to a being that was as close to omnipotent and omniscient within this world as one could ever hope to be. A world I designed, created, and wrote about for years. That had things as bullshit as dragons and magic. And let’s not forget the magic because I wasted oh so many sleepless nights because of it!

I should definitely qualify for some sort of aid against mental disabilities or lunacy.

“What’s so funny?” The blue demon asked with a sign of annoyance.

“You know, I think we can get out of here on our own.” I said with a grin, drying the tears as best I could. “Could’ve done it earlier had I known that I’m a blood-mage.”

“Shackles prevent magic regardless of what type of mage you are.” He rolled his eyes at me very much like any teenager like him would when exasperated about explaining things to someone.

“The shackles don’t nullify magic, they scramble magic on those wearing it and make it impossible to control the mana... like trying to be heard when someone's shouting in everyone's ears. But the mana is still there deep inside.” I explained while chuckling. “Blood-mages however, have all their mana in their blood. So were I to draw some runes with it...”

The demon frowned. “You wouldn’t be able to empower the rune.”

“No, of course not, I couldn’t add any more mana than whatever would already be in the blood because of the shackles. But if it’s made with my blood it should have enough for a minor effect.” I rolled my eyes back at him and grinned wolfishly. “Now tell me, fourth prince, just how much do you remember from all that time your tutors made you spend memorizing runes and spell shapes?”